


Goddamn Sunnydale

by astrotxt



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, It's set in Season One Buffy sooo, M/M, blergh, it's pretty tame ngl, like probably the tamest thing i've written in ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrotxt/pseuds/astrotxt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the destiel ficlet challenge: </p><p>Dean's bored as hell at Sunnydale High, aside from the dead classmate or two. He's just staying out of the way for the most part, until senior year happens and Castiel Novak moves to Sunnydale, right around the corner from his house. That's when everything gets a little more personal. A Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goddamn Sunnydale

Sam’s alarm blared offensively loud, as frikkin’ per, and Dean tried covering his ears. He heard the slam of it being turned off and his brother crawling out of bed. He sometimes wished the walls weren’t so damn thin.

 

He turned a bleary eye to his own clock, red numbers blurry from sleep. Six friggin’ thirty. First day of school and Sam was at his usual stressed-out self. Dean grunted, stumbling into the bathroom to get breakfast ready for when the squirt got back from his morning run. 

 

***

 

Rolling up to Sunnydale High after dropping Sammy off, Dean felt a distinct _lack_ of anything. He walked up the bleached stone steps, weaving in and out of classes as if in a dream, picking up books, depositing them in his locker, meeting Charlie and Jo for lunch, more classes, then picking Sammy up and gettin’ soup on. Mary got in about nine in the evening, run off her feet, and Dean held out a fresh serving just for her. Fresh as a microwaved casserole can be, anyhow. He’d practice guitar, then stare at his wall until he felt ready for sleep, leaving the window open for air, for someone to drag him away. 

 

His entire life was one stagnant freeze frame, and he’d be the first to admit it.

 

***

 

“What’ve your classes been like?” Charlie probed with a face-full of macaroni. “AP Calc is a total breeze obvi, but Shop’s gonna kill me, I wish I’d never listened to you.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Dean watched the meatball he was torturing disintegrate under his fork.

 

“Dude, earth to Deano, what’s with the monosyllabic crap?” Jo nudged him.

 

“What? Nothing, just bored.” he grunted, shaking his shoulder with an uneasy smile.

 

“With school? Shocker(!)” Charlie managed to do jazz hands sarcastically. It was a talent or something. 

 

“I don’t know, I guess I expected this year to feel different and it’s just… I dunno, it’s just nothing.” he shrugged. 

 

Jo eyed him suspiciously, “Yeah, ok.”

 

“Oh hey! Cas! Come sit over here!” Charlie yelled over to some guy, assumedly Cas, looking particularly lost in the middle of the cafeteria. He nodded over to the commotion and walked over. 

 

Well he wasn’t a freshman, thank god, Charlie had enough little minions running ‘round her ankles. He wore a beat-up green hoodie over a pink shirt, and his dark hair was stuck up every which way. He looked a mess and yet Dean’s heart started to thump erratically in his chest, especially when he opened his pink chapped lips, and woah, when did Dean zero in on some guy’s lips, surely that ain’t polite.

 

“Hello, I assume you’re Jo and you’re Dean?” he got out gruffly, nodding at the two of them respectfully. 

 

“Yeah, hey there.” Jo did a little wave, her hair bouncing as she smirked at him. Dean just nodded and looked back down to his sad-looking meatballs. 

 

Charlie declared to the table, “Cas is from AP Calc, he moved here from New York.”

 

“Hang on, didn’t you move into our street a month back?” Dean asked, recalling brash orange removal vans and more people than had any right fitting into a house as small as theirs piling out of ‘em.

 

“Yes, it’s been quite the transition.” Cas agreed solemnly.

 

“So how come you moved all the way here?” Jo asked, spraying minced meat everywhere, Charlie groaning as it got on her flannel. 

 

“Family business, mostly.” Cas shrugged, “We, um, we had family here once upon a time.”

 

“Hmm.” Dean nodded. 

 

Jo piped up as Cas looked at him curiously, “Ignore him, he’s being grumpy today because Rhonda still hasn’t called him back.”

 

“Shut up Jo.” Dean blushed at the mention of the - awesomely memorable - weekend he spent at Rhonda Hurley’s that summer. “Preacher’s daughter’s not goin’ to wanna have anything to do with me.”

 

“Ah shut up, you’re a catch Winchester, right Cas?” Charlie nudged the boy to her right. 

 

He shrugged, “I’d say so, yes.” 

 

Dean’s head whipped up and Jo nearly choked at his expression, which must have been a mix of offence and betrayal.

 

“I mean, um, I don’t know you. Very well.” he squinted and grimaced, “I should go, I have a, ah, thing.” he practically apparated out of there and Dean gave both Charlie and Jo a good stink-eye as they laughed.

 

“Leave him alone.” he groused, pushing his tray away.

 

Jo leaned on his shoulder and giggled, “Aw, Deanie, someone’s already got a crush!”

 

“Eat your food, you gremlins.” he shoved her off, groaning as they made kissy noises at him.

 

***

 

Scraping together some extra money at the Roadhouse was practical in theory, but dammit walking home in the friggin’ dark in _Sunnydale_ was less than a perk. Dean wasn’t unaware, there were more mysterious murders in their little Californian town than there had any right being, especially within the high school. They covered it up constantly, with pep rallies and bake sales, believing the sheer power of optimism would scare away any bad thoughts and crippling fear.

 

It didn’t work, obviously, thus guys like him took precautions. Like learning how to throw a punch. 

 

Which was why when he was walking home that night, alone, in the friggin’ dark, and some dude shoved him into an alley, he thought  ‘heh, I can take this punk.’

 

Except he couldn’t. His attacker was built like a brick shithouse reinforced with adamantium or something, and he really… can’t shake this fucking guy off. 

 

He was about to scream (in a totally manly way) for help when he heard a swooping noise and the guy above cried out before he just.. he disappeared into dust. And Dean was choking on him (gross, dude).

 

What was most disconcerting however, was that it was Cas breathing heavily just behind where that roid-raged nut was. Dressed in _slacks_ , worn white shirt tucked in messily, complete with a loosely-fitted blue tie around his neck, his hair still a bird’s nest, and a tan trench coat flapping a little behind him.

 

He looked like a superhero that forgot to change out of his secret identity outfit, and Dean was totally _not_ drooling. Cas leaned forward, prompting Dean’s hands to start sweating like crazy, and he pulled him up (with a little difficulty; freakin’ sweaty palms man).

 

Once Dean was upright again, Cas suddenly became a lot more awkward, like he was in the school cafeteria again, rather than standing in a stinkin’ alleyway after having saved Dean’s life. He squinted, growling out, “You’re welcome,” and awkwardly put something in his pocket, a- was that a tiny fence post? 

 

Before he could find out, Cas turned on his heel and walked around the corner, leaving Dean stunned and still a little breathless. He went to follow Cas, but by the time he’d gotten out on to the main street, he was gone. 

 

Dean felt he had nothing more to do except walk home, in a thorough daze. It gave him a headache just trying to match Cas the awkward dude at lunch up to Cas the trench-coated vigilante, and before he sunk into unconsciousness, Dean resolved to confront Cas before school the next day. He had to get answers somehow.

 

***

 

At the urgent beep of Sam’s alarm the next morning, Dean strode past, turning it off for him, before running downstairs, and leaving a note for Sam to fend for himself. He gathered his books and bolted out the door, man on a mission. 

 

He was sure the Novak family had to be up from the light bustle he could already hear. Their neighbours, the Harris’, were never awake before noon, and even then their shouting matches usually only started around five in the evening when everyone had already had too much to drink. 

 

He walked up to the door, peering in through the window where the hallways were still filled with boxes and- was that a freaking _mace?_ He elected to ignore whatever freaky shit the Novaks were clearly into and knocked on the door. Except it wasn’t Cas that answered. 

 

A tallish woman, not much older than him, looked at him pointedly as she opened the door, her vivid red hair matted and a toddler balanced on her hip, gurgling at him. 

 

“Uh, hi, I’m Dean, your new neighbour?”

 

She squinted at him, dead ringer for Cas. Must be his sister, Dean concluded inwardly, despite the fact they looked nothing alike. “Your mom’s Mary, right?”

 

He clapped his hands together, “Yeah, she made you guys some pumpkin pie, didn’t she?”

 

“Shit, yeah, we’ve still got the dish, um- ”

 

“Don’t worry about it, she hadn’t even noticed.” he scuffed his shoe and asked, “Is Cas around?”

 

Her face pinched slightly, “Castiel?” she said softly, “He’s not here.”

 

Dean looked behind him; it was barely 7.30, where the hell could he have gone already? Then dread sunk low in his stomach. “Did he, uh, not come home last night?”

 

Instead of sounding concerned, or even a little put-out, Anna just scrutinised him. “How would you- ” she started, but was interrupted by the kid on her hip wriggling impatiently. She looked up at Dean apologetically, “Sorry, I’ve gotta deal with little Alfie.”

 

A shriek pealed out from the depths of the house and as Dean was nodding his goodbye, he nearly jumped three feet in the air. He looked around to see Anna furrowing her brow in annoyance until she turned to see him still there. Her eyes widened and she slammed the door shut, only just muffling the howling. 

 

Dean stood shellshocked on the path for a few moments, attempting to catalogue… whatever had just happened there. He couldn’t do so even by the time he’d ambled up to school, or maybe he just didn’t want to. He scanned the hallways, but Cas wasn’t there. 

 

What he did find - or rather what found him - was a wild Charlie, crashing into his side and herding him pretty forcefully for a pint-sized nerd to her locker, hissing, “I need to talk to you, like yesterday.”

 

“Woah, what’s with the man-handling, Bradbury?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder at the impact. Her eyes were darting ‘round for eavesdroppers, lowering her voice.

 

“So you know how I help out with Home Ec after school because I’m a charitable citizen- ”

 

“You love ogling Gilda Fae, is what you mean.”

 

“Same diff! Anyway, I was walking home, takin’ a little more scenic route, when outta _no_ -where some guy jumps me.” 

 

Dean’s heart clenched, “Big guy, been workin’ out a little too hard?” he said gravely, and Charlie’s eyes widened with recognition. 

 

“On the nose, compadre. And he had something wrong with his face too,” she indicated the top half of her face, “dude was fugly. All bumpy and shit.” Her voice lowered as she checked around her again before continuing, “But that’s not even the weirdest part; y’know Muriel, Cas’ sister? Blonde hair, big eyes, cute as a button?”

 

Dean sighed, “Get to the point, Casa-no-flair.”

 

She shoved him with feeling, “Getting there, asshat! She swoops down, dressed in some suit and a trench coat for frick’s sake, and suddenly poof! He’s gone! Then swoop, off she goes again.” 

 

“Wait, poofed?” Dean caught on, “As in, disappeared-into-dust poof?”

 

“Yeah! Dean, is this some budget Batman thing? Because it feels like some budget Batman thing.” she could barely keep the excitement out of her voice. 

 

“Hey, can you cover for me today?” he asked distractedly, shoving his books into her locker, effortlessly pulling out what she needed for her next couple of periods.

 

“Sure, dude, you forgot something?” she asked taking them off his hands.

 

“I’ve gotta find Cas,” he said, and he knew he sounded evasive but this thing was twisted from the roots up and he couldn’t get Charlie involved unless he knew it was safe. “we need some answers here.”

 

“Okay dude, just um, stay safe.” she said worriedly, and he could understand her tone perfectly. He wasn’t the only one to notice other students being drained of blood, having their hearts cut out; hell, Charlie had found a corpse in the girl’s locker rooms, middle of last year. But he wasn’t going to be implicit in covering this shit anymore. She shoved him,  saying in an - honestly the worst - English accent, “You could be killed, or worse; ex _pelled_.” ignoring how shaky her voice was, before leaving. 

 

Dean snuck past the slowly ebbing flow of students before Principal Snyder could notice, darting down the corridor for the library, quickly peeking a look in. He saw some blonde girl arguing with the librarian, probably about late fees, although he briefly wondered what kind of person got tearful over late fees. Must be like, eons late. 

 

He snuck down the steps, still a man, still on a mission to find Cas and confront him about last night, when he rammed right into the only other person there. 

 

“Dude, were you literally aiming for me, I’m walkin’ here!” Dean yelped, before looking up and seeing gentle blue eyes frantically avoiding his. “Cas…” he trailed off, helping him pick up his books, but grabbing his left arm before he could scamper. Cas winced at the contact, but he didn’t leave when Dean let go. He did, however, yank himself away when Dean tried to see the damage, which clearly aggravated it, his hissing giving him away. Dean thanked his lucky stars that Mary had taught him and Sammy pretty advanced first aid (“You kids don’t have to be awesome doctors like your mom to know how to fix yourselves up”). 

 

“Cas, c’mon, have you even iced that?” he said softly, cradling the elbow gently. Cas grunted, but shook his head quickly. “Alright, c’mon, let’s, uh, we can go back to mine and we’ll fix this right up, ok?” he asked, treating Cas like a wounded animal, but it seemed to work as Cas let himself be led down the steps, careful to avoid windows overlooking the courtyard. 

 

They walked back in silence, Dean seeing that he also had bruises littered up and down the right side of his jaw, and he gulped, wondering if they had enough arnica cream.

 

They got back and Dean sat Cas down at their kitchen table with a grunt. As Cas shrugged out of his green hoodie, his plain black t-shirt was a little stiff, and when Dean rubbed the material it showed up red on his fingertips. He stared at Cas, wondering who the hell this kid was, and he lifted up his shirt to reveal more lacerations and bruises. Dean only flinched a little, dammit, and he muttered something about more bandages while Cas sat there and sulked, as if he were being put out by someone actually taking care of him. Stubborn ass. Dean dabbed delicately at the cuts with antiseptic, cleaning out that gross dust, before cutting out some gauze and tape to keep it clean. He dug out some more spares and stuffed them into Cas’ bag before checking his iced wrist, so busy making sure he was ok he didn’t register how close they’d gotten. 

 

He looked up at Cas gingerly, watching the permanent scowl of concentration watching Dean handle him like glass. He gulped, then some bravado worked its way through his system as he asked, “So, y’know you’re meant to wear a mask, right?”

 

Cas tilted his head, “Why on earth would I wear a mask, it would only obscure my vision.” he retorted, tacking on, “Plus I’d look like an assbutt.”

 

Dean snorted at that, much to Cas’ annoyance. He carried on holding the flanneled ice-pack, his gathered nerve to confront Cas that had burned through him all last night suddenly dissipating once he had the sour bastard in front of him. He finally broke the silence softly, “Cas, I was there last night. What- what the hell even was that?”

 

Cas didn’t say anything for a bit, but looked like he was just trying to come up with the right words. “I try and stop people getting hurt.” He considered his answer, nodded, then turned those true blues to Dean, and no, his heart was not friggin’ beating faster, shut up. “I’m not going to humour you with anything else,” he said simply, “you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

 

“Try me, c’mon Cas, I just wanna know what goes bump-in-the-night.” he whined, trying to come off good-natured, but probably sounding petulant.

 

Cas exploded at that, “No, Dean! Just leave it, it’s for your own good.”

 

“Who the hell are you to tell me what’s for my own good, you can barely look after yourself!” he cried out, “Do you even know where your sister is? Do you even fuckin’ care?” he finally bit out, and clearly that was the wrong thing to say because before Dean could argue any further he was backed up against his kitchen wall, the ice-pack falling pathetically to the floor. 

 

“If it weren’t for me, _Winchester,_ ” Cas growled his name like a curse, “you’d be dead. Show’s over, that’s all folks, dead.” and the words sunk like stones in Dean’s gut as Cas pulled away, dragging his hand over his mouth, testing his slightly numb wrist and yanking his hoodie of the back of his chair. “Starting to wonder if you were worth the trouble.” he muttered before slamming the door as he left. 

 

Dean wasn’t totally sure whether Cas had meant for him to hear that last part or not, but it sure roiled his insides nonetheless. 

 

***

 

He decided he’d pick Sammy up, least he could do for leaving the kid so early that morning, and dealt with excited babbling of how he’d gotten to go to the high school’s library and “wow Dean, isn’t the new librarian really cool? And get this; he’s _British_ , with the accent and everything, isn’t that cool, Dean?”

 

“Yeah, really cool, nerd.” he said, eyes roving the road. 

 

Sam kicked the side of his leg once they reached a stop sign, “Ass.” he muttered. 

 

“Bitch.” he chimed out.

 

“Jerk.” he smiled toothily at his big brother and Dean ruffled his hair for good measure. “Y’know what’s even cooler? The librarian, Mr Giles? He’s totally crazy.”

 

“Isn’t anyone who elects to spend their life surrounded by books?”

 

“Shut up, I’m serious. He’s got all these books on the occult, and they look really… I mean, Dean, with the weird crap that goes on in this town, I mean, it doesn’t seem too crazy, does it?” his voice lowered to a secret. Dean looked over at him, brow scrunched. 

 

“Think you’re onto something there, Sammy.”

 

***

 

The alleyway was cast in murky blue shades and sharp contrasting corners, and Dean was pinned down by the same guy snapping wildly at him like a dog, spittle flying from his yellow fangs. Dean couldn’t hold him back much longer, his arms suddenly turning into spaghetti, and it was the end, this was it, this was it.

 

The guy cried out in pain, staggering back as a sword jutted out of his chest. His wound grew brightly and he burst into flame and fell away as dust. Behind him was-

 

“Cas.” he breathed, getting monster dust in his mouth. Again (goddammit).

 

Cas put his sword back in his- gun holster, what? “Hello, Dean.” he growled out, and he pinned Dean to the wall, kissing him fiercely, and Dean felt it set his gut aflame, the way his tongue explored his mouth expertly, his firm body up against Dean’s. 

 

He started breathing out his name, like a prayer, solemnly, as he pressed kisses up and down his jaw, “Winchester, oh, Winchester…”

 

“Yes, Cas, god, yes,” he moaned quietly, writhing against him.

 

“WINCHESTER!” Cas suddenly hissed loudly, and Dean jolted awake. He rubbed his head sleepily and turned to see actual-Cas at his open window, perching on the branch like a freaking bird. “Are you just going to leave me sitting here? I need to talk to you.” as if HE were the one being inconvenienced.

 

“What, you need to be invited in?” Dean asked blearily, and even through his sleep-clouded lids, he could see Cas grimacing, although why, he had no clue. Guy seemed to constantly have an entire tree up his ass. “And what kinda time dya call this?”

 

“That’s irrelevant. You want answers, don’t you?” he indicated for him to follow Dean into the treehouse out back, gesturing impatiently as he disappeared into the dark of the way-too-early morning. 

 

Dean was ready to follow him, but he felt an uncomfortable dampness in his boxers. To his horror, he’d actually had a wet dream. About _Cas_ of all people. Dean internally bemoaned the entire universe before he quickly cleaned himself off and put on a new pair of boxers and sweatpants, perilously following Cas out into their treehouse.

 

Once he’d crawled in, he saw Cas sitting next to the window peering at the sky, and Dean was struck by how young he looked, gazing up at the crescent moon. Then he turned and bam, the scowl made its triumphant return. Dean wriggled uncomfortably under his stare before blurting out, “So, nice weather, we’re having.”

 

“We need to talk about what you know.” Cas stated.

 

“Right to business then,” Dean mumbled, “uh, I know practically nothing. Except you’re some kinda monster fighter, and you hate my guts to the point where you wake me up at two in the morning on a school night.”

 

“Mainly vampires, but yes.” Cas said simply, “My entire family fights them. We came here  not only to aid the Slayer in her new location especially on a Hellmouth. We thought it best to come and help since Gunn’s lost quite a few in LA.”

 

“Woah, woah, woah, slow the hell down there, Constantine,” Dean gestured, and of course Cas had no idea who John Constantine was, that damn head tilt making a guest appearance. “Slayer? Hellmouth? Friggin’ _vampires?_ All you’re doing is reeling off metal bands, are you messin’ with me?”

 

Cas rolled his eyes, “No I am not ‘messing’ with you,” he sighed, “and I assumed you knew more than you clearly do.” He looked over to Sam’s window, clearly peering to see if he was asleep, “But you need to know, I’m not going to let you handle this unaware.”

 

Dean’s heart picked up at how grave Cas was sounding, “Cas, use your words.” he said slowly.

 

“We’re hunters. My family, we’re all strays, if you will. My three sisters, Muriel, Rapheal and Anna, my two brothers Uriel and Gabriel, we all fight evil to some degree.” He paused, picking at his fingernails. “We were all taken in by Naomi when our families were…” he trailed off, voice wobbling slightly, and Dean wanted nothing more than to bridge the gap, at least touch his shoulder for support. He stayed his distance. “Naomi is a, um, an ex-watcher.” He waved his hand dismissively, “You don’t need to know much more about watchers other than the fact they’re pompous assholes, but they’re pompous assholes that know a lot about demons, vampires, giant worm-gods that impregnate you with their children that then eat their ways out of your body, werewolves, things that go ‘bump-in-the-night’, as you say.” He smirked at that, carrying on, “The Slayer is one girl born into every generation who has the preternatural powers to kill these creatures, with super strength, speed, intuition. Me and my family, we’re just regular people that get ourselves killed to try and do the same thing.”

 

“And it’s always a girl?” Dean interrupted quietly.

 

“Yes, as far back as Slayers go, they’ve always been women.”

 

Dean shrugged, “Makes sense.” He swallowed down his fear, “So, where do I come in?”

 

“There’s a prophecy,” Cas started, eyes avoiding Dean’s again. “that this powerful vampire will rise, but he needs another vampire to sire the Anointed One in order to do so, and of course we’re here to- to stop him.” He swallowed audibly in the gaping silence. “The Anointed One will have a large role in opening the Hellmouth.”

 

“That’d be the mouth of Hell, I’m assuming,” Dean asked and Cas nodded, “all in the name, I guess.”

 

“Dean…” Cas started, his voice cracking again, “The Anointed One is Sam.”

 

Dean blinked. “No.”

 

“No? What do you mean no, it’s him.” he said, obviously not getting it. 

 

“No way man, you can act like I’m shit on your shoe, you can say all this crazy crap, but don’t even _think_ of dragging my little brother into this.” he snarled, surprised by how darkly earnest he managed to sound. “You stay the hell away from him, you hear me? One hair on his head gets hurt in all this, you’d better be ready to fucking slay me. Do you hear me?” 

 

“Winchester, this is bigger than both of us.” he tried calmly, gesturing for placation, but Dean really couldn’t handle that, not when it concerned Sam.

 

“That’s a lot easier for you to say when it’s not your brother on the line!” he only just stopped himself from yelling. Cas’ face fell, and without a word he left, as was his usual schtick.

 

Dean was left in the cold morning air, splinters in his ass and dread in his heart.

 

***

 

For the next few days, Dean watched his little brother like a hawk, even offering to go on his morning jogs with him, on the off chance one of the Novaks would decide to take him out when the sun was rising.

 

What he’d said to Cas, the look on Cas’ face, how Dean felt about him, it was all a giant swirling mess of Neapolitan angst in his brain, and with the fear that Sam could be the key that all things fugly and evil would use to literally let all hell break loose just added to the pot nicely. And of course, by nicely, he meant horribly, really really horribly.

 

Friday rolled around and Dean was curious about those books Sammy had mentioned, and he went to investigate during lunch. While he was ensconced near the back with a heavy volume on those worm-gods Cas had mentioned (because wow, they totally are a thing, ew), he heard Xander’s voice pealing above the quiet in the library. 

 

“Buffy can’t kill a little kid, Giles!”

 

“No-one’s saying she should, she absolutely should not have to, but he won’t be a child by then, Xander.” a dulcet British accent came over the dusty shelves to where Dean was sitting, and that familiar dread he’d had to live with for the past few days rumpled where they lay embedded in his intestines. “He’ll be a- a- a- a monster, and quite frankly, it’s Buffy’s decision regardless, it is her birthright after all, to- ”

 

“- rid the world of all things icky, I know Giles,” and was that Buffy Summers? Dean nearly slapped himself; she’d arrived a month before Cas, he shoulda guessed crazy came in twos, “but I don’t know how I feel about a kid-shaped monster. I mean, I think his brother goes to class with us, Dean? He sits behind me in History class, for crying out loud! Imagine how our conversations would go after that! ‘Oh hey, did ya get the assignment done last night? By the way, sorry about dusting your brother, but he was an essential part of a plan to destroy Sunnydale and probably the world! Can I borrow your notes?’” she reeled off.

 

Dean couldn’t sit there for much longer, and he ran out the fire exit into the courtyard, desperately trying to stave off a panic attack, fear running through every channel in his body.

 

He had to speak to Cas, asshole or not.

 

***

 

After school he knocked frantically on the Novak’s door, shaking his foot impatiently on their step. A big dude answered this time, his dark skin marred by scars winding around his neck. 

 

“Would you like to tell me why it is you are disturbing our family with such a racket, Winchester?” he enunciated with delicious malice. 

 

“Good, you know who I am.” Dean asserted, slipping past the guy, “I’m here to see Cas.”

 

That wailing from the basement started up again and Dean practically ran to chase after it, ignoring Cas’ brother’s angry orders to stop and get the hell out. 

 

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he certainly found Cas. He was sitting next to a large cage in the corner of the room, and inside was a guy covered in large flaking scars. Cas looked up startled, then tried to grab a sheet to cover the cage, but Dean stopped him, grabbing his wrist, terrified at what he’d gotten himself into. 

 

“Who the hell is that?”

 

“And you must be the famous Dean.” the guy leered, “Jimmy here has been talking endlessly about you. Well, not while he’s sober maybe, but I can’t blame him. You smell _heavenly_.” he quipped, before snickering in his little corner.

 

“Cas, who the hell is that you have locked up in a fuckin’ _cage_?” Dean asked one more time, never taking his eyes of Cas. 

 

Cas’ eyes darted, afraid, looking from the man in the cage to Dean frantically, before he looked down, saying quietly. “He’s my brother. Luke.” he looked over at him, hatred and empathy all rolled up in one, “Blood relation.” he choked out bitterly. 

 

Dean faltered, stumbling back a little, “Your brother?” 

 

“He’s the… the one the prophecy speaks of. The one who must sire your brother.” Cas said gruffly, wiping his mouth, looking away.

 

“Well he says that, but I’ve never heard so much bull in my life.” Luke piped up, “But then again you were always the one for believing whatever anyone shoved down your throat.” 

 

“Shut up, demon.” Cas spat out.

 

“Jimmy’s a real lucky soul, Deano, got one brother turned and the other one killed. Ain’t that a peach?” Luke taunted from his corner, picking the flaking skin off the back of his hands. 

 

“This is what being turned into a vampire does to you. You’re hollowed out and replaced with something darker.” Cas said, sounding just as hollow. 

 

“Well now he’s just making me out to be a damn pumpkin, do you think I should be insulted like that, Deano?

 

“I can’t listen to this.” Cas decided, storming off, barely hiding his tears. 

 

Dean observed Luke a little more, “So, what happened to your face?”

 

“Holy water. What’s your excuse?” he smirked.

 

“And why’d ya call Cas Jimmy?”

 

“He didn’t tell you?” Luke asked, genuinely surprised. “We all had real names before Naomi rounded us up in her merry gang, naming us after angels.” he scoffed. “His _real_ name is James.”

 

Dean looked at him seriously, unimpressed with the first vamp he’d ever conversed with. “Well he’s Cas now.” he asserted, and before he walked off he said, “And you’re never getting your gross hands on Sam. Y’got that?”

 

He whipped up the stairs to find Cas on the back porch, sitting with his head between his hands. Dean settled down beside him, hesitating to disturb him.

 

“Cas?” he cautioned, “Cas, I know I haven’t been the most, uh, helpful guy on the planet.” he placed a careful hand on his back, “But I’m here, and I’ll do anything I can. I get it. We’ve both got pain in the ass brothers.”

 

“You don’t understand, Winchester… It was my fault.” he said softly, and he didn’t need to go on, Dean could feel it when he was in the room, the guilt that came off Cas in waves. 

 

“Offer still stands.” he said simply.

 

Cas turned to him, as if looking at him for the first time. “Well first of all, you need to learn how to fight, Winchester.”

 

***

 

They spent the entire weekend at Cas’, with his family’s promise to look out for Sam rather than target him, with Cas showing Dean more advanced moves, working on his style, and incorporating weapons, like stakes (not, um, little fence posts). Turned out Dean was also pretty nifty with a crossbow, unless Cas was right behind him breathing in his ear, dammit. 

 

And they sparred. A lot. And Cas kicked Dean’s ass. A lot. But Dean wasn’t exactly complaining. 

 

“You’re kinda terrible at hand-to-hand, Winchester.” Cas teased. “Good thing you’ve got good aim.”

 

“I’ve only been doin’ this for a weekend, Cas, c’mon!” Dean groused as Cas pinned him to the ground for the eighteenth time that afternoon.

 

“Hmm, I think I prefer you on your back.” Cas said seriously, grinning at the way Dean’s eyes widened. “What? You actually thought I hated you, assbutt?” he breathed, his eyes softening. 

 

Dean’s mouth gaped like a goddamn fish, and he’d’ve _really_ preferred if Cas wasn’t rolling his hips like that. 

 

Luckily (well maybe not luckily) Uriel burst into the the kitchen, bleeding profusely from his side. Dean went into emergency mode, stemming the blood-flow and calling an ambulance, but Anna was shaking him feverishly.

 

“The Master, he’s got Sam.” 

 

***

 

Cas sped all the way to the graveyard where the Master’s main lackey’s nests were. 

 

“Sam?” Dean chanced into the dark, but Cas covered his mouth with his hand quickly, shaking his head. Dean then heard a rustling noise, gripping his crossbow, when he whipped round the mausoleum. His head took a deafening thwack and suddenly he was pinned to the floor by a petite blonde from his History class.

 

“Slayer?” Cas breathed.

 

“Do I know you?” she said, not even breaking a sweat.

 

Cas straightened up, “Actually Winchester and I are here to help.”

 

“Oh god, Dean.” she gasped, letting him out of his chokehold. “We’re here for your brother.”

 

“Yup. Same.” Dean wheezed out.

 

“So what’s the plan?” Cas whispered, and Buffy called her team over to merge their battle plans (ok so they didn’t really have a battle plan, what with the impromptu, but Buffy was being kinda bossy. Dean supposed it was par for the course when you’re the freakin’ Slayer). 

 

They burst into the crypt guns blazing (sort of) Buffy and Cas dusting two vamps each minutes apart, Xander holding one with Willow while Dean aimed a crossbow right into his heart. They were quite a team, weirdly enough. Sam managed to wriggle free from where they’d been holding him, running to help them, looking way more excited to fight than he had any right being. 

 

Dean got distracted, however, when he heard a gasp, finding Cas held up against a wall by his neck, nasty-lookin’ vamp about to close in on his throat if he didn’t strangle him to death first.

 

Dean suddenly had tunnel vision, darting over to him and aiming perfectly for the heart as he heard the crossbow fly. The vampire collapsed into dust, dropping Cas to the floor with a dull thud. 

 

He could hear them say that Sam was ok in the distance, and while an aching fear in his chest lifted, Dean could only focus on Cas’ whole unconsciousness thing.

 

“Cas? Cas dammit, wake up! Please wake up!” he said, voice shaking as he stroked his face. With a groan, Cas’ eyes fluttered open.

 

“Winchester? You’re incredibly shrill when y- ” and if he’d nearly died a moment ago, he was about to get pretty close again with the way Dean was kissing the life out of him, all clacking teeth and desperation. When he pulled away, Cas had the most blissed-out look on his face, a stupid smile plastered across his face. 

 

“Damn, Winchester, I should nearly die every day, huh?” he quipped. 

 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Dean choked out, gripping him tightly to him, and melting into the way Cas held him just as tightly back. 

 


End file.
